Tom
by ChihiroLee
Summary: When Tom Riddle— a former surgeon turned psychiatrist and cannibalistic serial killer— is asked to aid the FBI in creating a psych profile to help catch the cannibalistic serial killer "The Harrier", he jumps at the opportunity. While gaining insight on how the FBI investigates their cases, he's struck with an unexpected attraction to the case's Special Investigator, Hermione.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hello everyone, this is a NON Magical AU, Inspired by NBC's Hannibal.**

**To anyone who enjoyed reading Daughter of the Devil, I'm sorry. I deleted it due to some hateful messages I received and I don't know if I will ever post it again, because this is exactly what I was afraid of. I was told that I stole someone else's work and that I should kill myself, among a variety of other things. **

**I just want to say that; everything I write comes from my own mind, NOT anyone else's. If you take a look at any of my stories, you will not see an ounce of someone else's work. I would never do that, and due to those accusations as well as people wishing ill on me, that story is gone, never to return. It'll stay in the archieves with the rest of my writing and I'll just read it for my own enjoyment (many of my stories are in fact written by me for my own personal enjoyment, I only share them because I think someone else might enjoy them as well).**

**I do hope you all enjoy this story, however.**

* * *

**Summary: **When Tom Riddle— a former surgeon turned psychiatrist and cannibalistic serial killer— is asked to aid the FBI in creating a psychological profile to help catch the cannibalistic serial killer "The Harrier", he jumps at the opportunity. After seizing this once in a lifetime chance to hide in plain sight while gaining insight on how the FBI investigates their cases, he's struck with an unexpected attraction to the case's Special Investigator, Hermione Granger. It's not long before Tom can feel himself being irrevocably drawn to the darkness hiding within her. And sets out on a mission to capture her affections and lure out the monster within her.

*****Dark! Non Magical AU*****

**~ Fan-cast: Richard Madden as Tom Riddle (you can fan-cast someone else if Richard isn't to your liking) ~**

* * *

Tom Riddle sat in the arm chair of his office, with an inscrutable expression on his face as he continued to observe the man seated before him for an uncomfortably long amount of time; watching him, _studying_ him, as the sound of his quiet sobbing filled the room. The sobbing man, Peter Pettigrew, tried piteously to reign in his tears as he choked down another sob before reaching out, awkwardly gesturing towards the box of tissues located next to Tom on his left side table.

"Please..." his broken voice said, as he looked up into the intense maroon colored eyes of his psychiatrist. Tom, while keeping his eyes trained on the sobbing man, grabbed the box of tissues from the table beside him and handed the box back over to the disheveled man seated across from him.

"I hate being so damned neurotic." Peter said forlornly as he proceeded to feverishly wipe at his eyes and nose.

"If you weren't neurotic, Peter, you would be something much worse." Tom said as he watched his patient try to gather his emotions while glancing appreciatively around his office. Watching as his eyes took in the immaculate space surrounding him. His office, a space that he'd personally designed in the fashion of Sir John Soane, had been filled with carefully chosen antiques, artifacts and a gallery of books.

"Our brains are designed to experience anxiety in short bursts, not the prolonged foamy lathers of duress your neuroses seem to enjoy. It's why you feel as though an anaconda were on the verge of coiling around you in order to suffocate and devour you." Tom continued as he watched the man thoughtlessly toss his tissue onto the table beside him. He turned his attention to the tissue wad for a moment, eyeing it in disgust before pivoting his eyes back up to his patient. "Peter, all you have to do, is convince yourself the anaconda is not in the room. Because when it is, I can assure you, that you _will_ know it."

The session continued for another thirty-five minutes before it was _finally_ done. Tom, being the gracious man that he was, stood from his seat in order to walk Peter out to the door, and as he opened it in order to usher him out, he found a weathered, austere, strongly built looking man standing there, waiting patiently on his doorstep. Upon closer inspection, Tom guessed that the man had to be in his mid to late 60s, regardless of his seemingly solid build.

"Hello. Would you happen to be Doctor Riddle?" the man asked with a polite smile.

"I hate to be discourteous sir, but this is a private exit for my patients, Mister...?"

"Dumbledore. Albus Dumbledore. I'm a Special Agent with the F.B.I. May I come in?" he said before presenting his credentials.

"If you would like to talk, you may wait in the waiting room for me." Tom said while eyeing his credentials warily before handing them back and turning to dismiss Peter. "I'll see you next week, Peter."

As Peter exited his office, Tom turned to the agent before him and jokingly said, "Unless of course this meeting is about him."

"Oh no, Doctor Riddle, this is all about you." Dumbledore said to Tom just as he turned to go back into his office, leaving Dumbledore to cool his heels in his waiting room.

After closing the door, Tom made a mad dash through his office, hiding anything that could potentially be viewed as evidence of his crimes. Hiding the sketches of his past _"designs",_ as well as hiding his most recent sketch, this one for sure, was destined to be a masterpiece and it would be a cold day in hell before he let that old bastard in his waiting area stop him. Once his office was clear of any visible evidence of his crimes, he moved to the door and opened it wide to stand in the doorway.

"Please. Come in." Tom said before forcing a flat emotionless smile on his usually handsome face.

As they walked into Tom's office, Dumbledore surveyed the opulent space and immediately began admiring the beautiful works of art adorning the walls. Occasionally stopping to peruse the bookshelves, absentmindedly trailing his fingers over the immense collection of books and artifacts every now and again while Tom slowly followed him.

"May I ask how this is all about me?" Tom asked after closing and discreetly locking the door behind him.

"You can ask, doesn't mean I'll tell you." Dumbledore said jokingly, before continuing, "But I do need to ask you a few questions first... Are you going to be expecting another patient soon?"

"No, Agent Dumbledore. We're all alone." he said somewhat darkly, all the while trying to control the edge that made it's way into his voice.

"No secretary then?" Dumbledore asked, taking a look around the vast space.

"No." Tom admitted with a small frown, "She was pre-dispositioned to romantic whims and followed her heart to Australia. I was sad to see her go."

Tom continued to silently study Dumbledore as the latter quietly examined the framed pencil sketches of the Scottish and Parisian landscapes Tom had spent hours working on meticulously.

"Are these yours, Doctor?" Dumbledore queried, motioning to the frames in front of him, when he saw that the dark haired man had come to stand beside him. Tom nodded in response before turning and walking to another frame further down the wall.

"_This_," he said while gesturing to the wall where an elegant gilded frame sat, showcasing an immaculate rendering of a castle like structure, "Was among the firsts. My boarding school back in Scotland from when I was a boy."

"This is an incredible amount of detail." Dumbledore noted, still in awe of the drawing.

"The detail, Agent Dumbledore," Tom began as he picked up one of his graphite pencils along with a scalpel, "Comes from the point of the pencil." he continued as he repeatedly ran the blade of the scalpel over the pencil's tip in slow, methodical strokes. "And I learned _very_ early, that a scalpel can cut better points than your basic pencil sharpener." Tom finished as he blew away the remaining shavings from the pencil and sat it back down on his desk while keeping the scalpel carefully tucked in his hand. His eyes darting back and forth between the F.B.I. Agent's face and jugular as he continued to watch the older man, while he scrutinized his office's decor.

"I understand your drawing got you an internship at Johns Hopkins." Dumbledore said conversationally, while still observing Tom's work, never noticing the flair of Tom's nostrils nor the dilation of his pupils, as he continued to look over his many artistic pieces. Inhaling and exhaling in eerily calm observation.

"I am beginning to suspect you are investigating _me_, Agent Dumbledore." And just as the words left his mouth, the room became thick with tension, almost as if the air around them was closing in on them in order to suffocate the both of them.

The older man laughed dryly before speaking, "Well, I suppose I should be addressing the reason why I'm here. You see Doctor Riddle, I'm in need of a psychiatrist. My first choice was Draco Malfoy from down in the psychology department in Georgetown, but he and my special investigator don't exactly get along. So when I brought this issue up with him, he referred me to you. He told me that you used to mentor him."

Tom's demeanor softened ever so slightly at this revelation, relieved by the knowledge that this man wasn't here in some half assed attempt at apprehending him.

"Most psychology departments are filled with ham radio enthusiasts and other personality-deficients. Dr. Malfoy on the other hand, would be the only exception I found there. He was one of the few students I had, that didn't make me want to throw my head into a wall."

"So, you mentored him during his residency at John Hopkins?" Dumbledore queried.

"I guess you could say that, though I believe that I learned just as much from him as he learned from me."

"He showed me your paper in The Journal of Clinical Psychiatry. The one you wrote on the Evolutionary Origins of Social Exclusion."

"And?"

Dumbledore shrugged before responding, "It was very _interesting_, even to a layman like myself."

"A layman?" Tom laughed, "So many learned fellows going about in the halls of Behavioral Science at the F.B.I. and you consider yourself a layman?"

"I do when I'm in your company, Doctor. But I must confess, I'm not here to discuss papers and art. I actually like to know if you would do me the immense honor of utilising your expertise in psychology to help me with a psychological profile, as well as keep an eye on my special investigator. You see, these cases that I have her working on, often leave her brain in dark places I would just like to have someone verify that she's okay." Tom tilted his head downward for a moment in order to hide his smirk from the elder man, but he couldn't deny, that this conversation had been a pleasant surprise for him, not to mention the _dark_ _places_ he alluded to, in regards to his Special Investigotor's mind, had definitely sparked his interest.

"Of course I'll help you Agent Dumbledore," Tom said with a serious nod as he walked the elder man to the door. "I'd be more than happy to help you get a dangerous killer off the streets, anyway that I can."

* * *

_**F.B.I. Academy, Quantico, Virginia- 1 Week Later**_

Tom walked off the elevator and into the corridor of the B.A.U. with an undeniable air of self-satisfaction about him. He honestly felt quite smug as he began to walk through the hallway, that would lead him to the office of Albus Dumbledore. As he walked he took the time out to think about how fortunate he was to be granted with this opportunity to discover what exactly went on here at the F.B.I and whether or not they were any closer to catching him. He wondered idly if the case that he would be helping with was his very own, after all, the old fool did say that they were hunting for a cannibal. Smirking, Tom shook his head in order to clear it of these thoughts as he got closer to the room that he had been told to report to when he first arrived here ten minutes ago. Upon reaching the door, with the identifying plaque reading 'Albus Dumbledore', he lifted his hand and firmly knocked on the oak surface. He stood there stoically, as he waited to be let in.

When the door opened up, he was met with the warm brown cinnamon colored eyes of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. After looking over her face, he glanced over her shoulder to where Albus Dumbledore stood with a silent question in his eyes, and was met with a silent nod. So _this_ was the special investigator he was asked to look over last week in his office? Tom raised a brow at this revelation, so she wasn't severe or bulky looking like he'd first imagined her, in fact, she was breathtakingly beautiful with skin as white as snow and soft feminine features. Honestly, if it weren't for the wild brown curls which sat atop her head, he would've almost mistaken her for being timid and innocent. But no, her wild mane of curls gave her a look of wild beauty, along with that unspoken glint of darkness she had in her eyes- almost as if she had seen far too much evil in her lifetime to ever be considered innocent again. He knew what that was like, having seen so much evil in his youth. He knew that in order to be innocent, it required naïvety, which was something that he was certain that she lacked. He was beyond pleased that this lovely little creature would be present for this meeting. If she was here, then that meant that she had to be intelligent.

She was the most radiant woman he had ever laid eyes on, standing before him in a silk woodgrain patterned turquoise and black wrap dress. And Tom took this moment to discreetly peruse her assets. He looked at her hungrily, as he continued to take in every single detail of the dress that she was wearing. The dress stopped just above her knees and the cuffs of the dress sleeves were elbow length. The line of the dress was complimented by a thin belt cinched around her tiny little waist. He recognized it immediately as a Diane von Furstenberg dress. The dress was wrapped tightly around her fit little body, allowing Tom to get a remarkable view of the delicious curves she kept hidden beneath the material. And if her face had been any indicator of how she felt, he knew that she was just as surprised to see him, as he had been to see her. _This_ was bound to be an... _interesting_... experience.

"Hello, nice to meet you Miss?" Tom drawled in a honeyed tone, extending his hand to give her a formal handshake. With a soft undetectable inhalation, his nostrils were greeted with the delicious scent of black truffles, bergamot, black orchid, black plum, noir gourmand accord, and the mild unmistakable scent of patchouli. The heady scent drew him in like nothing he had ever experienced before. There was no doubt in his mind that the fragrance came from a Tom Ford perfume. Tom Ford _and_ Diane von Furstenberg... Tom had to admit that this girl, no, this _woman_, certainly had taste.

"Granger." she said in response while looking down at his outstretched hand before shaking it. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I've gotten your name, Mister...?"

"_Doctor_ Riddle." Tom replied unable to help himself from correcting her while he ran his thumb over the back of her hand lightly before releasing it. "Alright then, lets get this started then, shall we?" he asked, stepping into the room and closing the door behind himself.

"After you, _Doctor Riddle,_" Hermione said condescendingly. _Ah,_ _so the wildcat is out to play_ Tom thought inwardly to himself with a smirk as she turned and led him over to one of the seats in front of Dumbledore's desk.

After sitting, Tom pushed his lustful thoughts to the back of his mind, and settled himself in to listen to the case he'd been invited to assist with. He listened to Agent Dumbledore and Hermione as they enlightened him on the case that they were working on. Apparently his little _Hermione_ had figured out from the most recent body they found, that their suspect was a cannibal, and he wondered how she came to that conclusion.

"How do you figure the killer is a cannibal Miss Granger?" Tom inquired, eyeing Hermione with undisguised curiosity.

"Well when the killer brought the body of Hannah Abbott back home, and we discovered her body, we noticed that there was a recently mended incision that had been made on her left side. So we had the coroner reopen the wound and she discovered that he had removed her pancreas and then replaced it." Hermione explained.

"Well Miss Granger, while I have admit that that is quite peculiar, it doesn't quite equate to cannibalism." Tom drawled, "Have you considered that your killer has been keeping mementos?" he suggested, wanting to see her brain in action.

"Of course I considered that," she said with an eyeroll. "In fact, up until now that had been my assumption. But with the discovery of this body, I've decided that that conclusion had been the wrong one."

"What about this body made you change your mind?" Tom asked, wanting to know what clues this body had given her, that made her believe the killer was a cannibal.

"Well, if he wanted to keep mementos, then he wouldn't have returned the pancreas to her body, and he certainly wouldn't have returned the victim's body to her apartment." Hermione drawled back in response. "She's the first victim of this killer that we've been able to recover the body of. All the rest of the victims from the board have yet to be recovered, and to be quite honest, at this point we're not even expecting to find their bodies. Especially if my suspicions about the killer are proven to be correct; I believe we should be preparing ourselves for the possibility that the most we'll ever be able to recover from our victims, are their bones Dr. Riddle."

"Why do you say that Miss Granger?"

"Because I'm certain that the unsub didn't return her body out of the kindness of his heart." She said with a sardonic laugh, "He did it because the meat was 'tainted'."

"Tainted?" Tom queried. "I don't believe I understand what you mean by that Miss Granger."

"Cancer, Doctor Riddle." Hermione all but growled out, "He returned her body because she had pancreatic cancer."

"Hmm" Tom said thoughtfully, before turning to look at Dumbledore. "You said you guys have been receiving confessions."

Dumbledore nodded in response as he began to scratch his fingers through his scruffy beard.

"So, tell me then. How many confessions have you received?" Tom asked, before looking over the victim's photos once more.

"Twelve dozen last time I checked." Dumbledore said with an angry sigh, before continuing, "None of them knew details. Until this morning. Then everyone knew details. Some genius down in the local PD, took a picture of Hannah Abbott's body with their phone and shared it with a few close friends. Rita Skeeter ran it on felony finder dot com."

"Absolutely tasteless." Hermione mumbled.

Hearing her whispered comment, Tom turned to Hermione and said, "Do you have trouble with taste, Miss Granger?

"My thoughts are often not tasty." She mumbled once more.

"Nor mine, Miss Granger. But this only means that you lack any effective barriers, to keep these thoughts away."

"Barriers?" she scoffed, "I make forts."

"Associations come quickly." Tom murmured in his own low tone

"So do forts." Hermione said curtly as she began to pick at her cuticles. Tom studied her for a moment, watching her as she picked away at the skin around each of her fingernails. She was avoiding eye contact and he wondered idly if she did it due to social anxiety or something deeper. Perhaps she was hiding something, Tom mused for a moment before shaking his head slightly. Whatever her reason for withholding those chocolaty brown eyes from him, he wanted to know. He secretly hoped that the reason why she didn't want to look any one in the eyes was because of that supposed darkness that old coot felt like she'd been exposing herself to.

"Are you not fond of eye contact, Miss Granger?" Tom asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

Instead of acknowledging his question, Hermione just continued to sit there in silence for a few moments longer, completely unapologetic of the fact that she was blatantly avoiding eye contact with him. Just as the silence began reaching a level of uncomfortability, she _finally_ spoke.

"Well if you must know Doctor Riddle, eyes are often too distracting for me. Sometimes I see entirely too much. Sometimes I don't see nearly enough. And besides it's hard to focus when you're thinking those whites are really white or they must have hepatitis, or is that a burst vein? So I try to avoid eyes whenever possible." she said matter of factly.

Tom wasn't phased in the slightest by her lack of deflection from his observation of her, in fact it only served to intrigue him more. Tom looked at her for a moment, studying this girl- no this _woman_\- while she was here in her element. He took in her pensive face, memorizing all of her features before speaking.

"I imagine," he began in a soft tone before continuing, "I imagine that what you see and learn touches everything else in your mind. Your values and decency are present, yet shocked at your associations, and appalled by your dreams. No forts in the bone arena of your skull for things you love."

Hermione _finally_ snapped her eyes up to meet his, allowing him to see the undeniable fire within them as she opened her mouth to spit out the question, "Whose profile are you working on, exactly?" before turning her steely gaze on the other man in the room, with an accusing look in her eyes, "Whose profile is he working on?" she demanded

"I'm sorry, Miss Granger. Observing is what I do- what _we_ do." he said, trying to keep his smirk from creeping across his face, "I can't shut mine off any more than you can shut yours off."

From the look on her face, Tom knew that she didn't appreciate his accurate deduction of her psyche.

She kept her eyes pinned on Dumbledore, as she opened her mouth to speak, "_Please_ don't psychoanalyze me. You won't like me when I'm psychoanalyzed," she said angrily before scooting out of her chair, to stand up. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go give a lecture to my students _on_ psychoanalyzing." she continued as she turned on her heel and marched out, hips swaying seductively with every step, and leaving Tom and Dumbledore alone in the office.

"Maybe we shouldn't poke her like that doctor. Don't get me wrong, she's brilliant, absolutely brilliant. But she needs a lighter touch. I suggest that maybe we use a less direct approach." Dumbledore said with a firm nod of his head.

Tom turned his attention from the closed office door, and back to the aged man sitting before him, "What she has is one of a kind Agent Dumbledore. What she has is pure empathy. And projection. She has the ability to assume your point of view, or mine - and maybe even some other points of view that scare her. It's an uncomfortable gift, Albus. Perception's a tool that's pointed on both ends." he said before looking back at the evidence board on the far side of the room, studying each and every one of the photos of the Virginia murder victims— taking in all of their dirty blonde heads, and delicate fae-like features, before turning back to face Dumbledore.

"Albus," he said seriously as he turned his eyes back to the man in question, "This cannibal that you have her getting to know... I think I can help get Hermione to see his face." an idea already forming in his mind.

* * *

_**Three days later**_

Tom smiled quietly to himself as he reached into his cooler to remove his recently acquired liver- glad to have finally found the time to get this small bit of work done. This was his favorite part to his _acquisitions_. Preparing his meat for storage. It was during this time that he would usually decide what dish he wanted to use the meat in. He already had his mind set on a scrumptious foie gras au torchon recipe with perhaps a late harvest Vidal sauce and figs, as he slid his knife over the organ to remove the nerves and veins that he found along the way. He was happy to be au fait with the process of making foie gras well enough to know that the unhealthy lifestyle this woman was living, would ultimately make her liver the perfect organ for the recipe he had in mind. _Yes_, he thought with a happy smile, _foie gras would definitely be the best way to utilize this particular bit of meat_. Heaven knows it had been ages since he made one. He had to admit that he was definitely risking quite a lot, with his decision to go after this victim in particular, but she was the only one that met the criteria of the other victims of this case. He thought about how happy she would've been before she died, if she had known that she would _finally_ be worthy of something, even if it was just ending up on his dinner plate. He couldn't help but to chuckle at that thought. _With any luck_, he thought with a deviant smirk, _he could convince Hermione to join him with this particular meal._ He couldn't help but to think of how easily he had been able to accomplish this particular murder, but he suspected that it more than likely wouldn't have been so easy, had he not already _known_ his victim. The poor thing.

He idly wondered when they would find the body - the poor girl had been out there for well over a day now - and if they would like the display he had placed her in. Just as he finished vacuum sealing his meat and popping it into his basement freezer, he felt his cellphone begin to vibrate in his pocket. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the small device and let a devilish smile cross his face when he read the caller I.D.

_Albus_ _Dumbledore_

He picked it up and kept his voice in an even tone as he answered.

"Hello? Albus?" Tom asked, feigning ignorance.

"Yes, its me Tom. I'm sorry to call you so late," he said in a tired tone.

"Its fine Albus, you know I'm always happy to help." he said with a brief pause before continuing, "_Is_ there something I can help you with?"

"Oh, yes. That. Tom, I need you to go and check up on Miss Granger. We found another body today, and she was rather shaken up about it."

This was interesting, was Albus talking about the same person he left out in that field?

"Is there any reason in particular that she was shaken up?" Tom asked making sure his voice sounded convincingly concerned before he continued, "I would like to know how I should approach her."

"Well, the woman that was found this morning is a girl by the name of Lavender Brown. And apparently Miss Granger and Miss Brown attended the same college. I don't know if they were close. But she definitely seemed pretty banged up by this victim, more so than any others. I just would like to make sure her head is still in the game, you know?" Dumbledore said with an audible sigh.

"Will you be accompanying me on this journey to check on her?" Tom asked, not willing to let his excitement get the best of him until he knew for sure that this interaction would be private.

At this question, Dumbledore let out an anxious laugh. "Well yes, that's the thing, Tom my boy, I'm going to need you to go see her on your own. Because I have to be in court all day tomorrow. I know you two didn't get on well in our last meeting, but I think that if you two had a conversation without an outside party being present, she'll find that the two of you have a lot in common."

"Yes, I do think she would." Tom said with a smirk, before saying his farewells and hanging up the phone.

* * *

**If you made it to this point thank you for reading. Let me know if you guys would be interested in reading chapter 2.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: I see I have a few Scandinavian people enjoying my story. Can some of you tell me about how life is out there? I recently found out that I'm 21% Swedish, and I would love to know more about the country and its neighbors!**

**Don't forget to R&R, but please keep your hate and death wishes to yourself. If I receive one more, I swear I will be deleting everything I've written from this site and moving on to another site.**

**I'll more thank likely update this fic on a bi-weekly basis. I just wanted to give you all a taste of what the rest of this story entails :) .  
**

* * *

_**The Next Morning**_

Bright and early, at around 8 am Tom began to make his way over to Hermione's home — grateful that Dumbledore texted him her address — or he would have his hands full trying to explain how he already knew where she lived. Ever since their last encounter, Tom would be remiss if he didn't admit that he had been so thoroughly enthralled by the feisty young woman, that he had purposefully sought her out. Some might call it stalking, but he preferred to use the term hunting, because that's exactly what he was doing - he was hunting this beautiful woman down, and enjoying the chase while he did so. Tom wanted to know all of her secrets, her wishes, her aspirations, and most of all, Tom wanted to see her in her rawest, darkest form - the one he knew was just lying beneath the surface. He stood outside of her door, the very same door he had been watching for the past two days before he finally reached out and gave it two firm knocks, before stepping back to patiently wait for her to open it. After a moment he heard a rustling on the other side of the door before it slowly began to open. Tom tried to keep his lecherous thoughts at bay as he was greeted with the wondrous sight of her curvaceous little body wrapped in a small thin satin robe. At her questioning look, he immediately emptied his head of all the less than pure thoughts he had been having and lifted up his hands to reveal to her the two cups, thermos, and small thermal food storage bag he brought with him.

"Good morning, Hermione." Tom greeted her with a smile before continuing, "I come bearing gifts. May I come in?"

Hermione stood there staring at him, until she opened her mouth to speak, "Where's Dumbledore?" she asked, completely ignoring his question.

"Dear old Dumbledore is currently deposed in court. The adventure will be yours and mine today." Tom said with his smile still plastered on his face, "Now, may I come in?" he repeated.

With that she gave him a final look before stepping aside to let him into her small apartment. Tom looked around as he walked inside, taking note of her minimally furnished apartment as he walked to where he assumed the kitchen to be. He made his moves as slow and methodical as possible, knowing that he was still on shaky ice with her from their last meeting, and it wouldn't do, to have her suspicious of him. Not before he could manage to make a copy of her house key with the mold he had hidden in the pocket of his suit jacket. Shaking his head, he busied himself with opening his food storage bag to begin setting out the tupperware containers on top of her table's two place settings and gently placing coffee mugs beside the two containers. He smiled to himself at the sight of the beautifully presented breakfast for two. As they both sat down at the table, Tom moved to peel the lids off of the containers before moving to pour freshly brewed coffee into their two cups.

"What's this?" Hermione questioned as she picked up her fork to push around some of the food.

Tom chuckled softly at her question before answering. "It's breakfast. A little protein scramble to start the day. Some eggs, some sausage. And I'll apologize in advance if this isn't the type of breakfast that you're used to. I'm not sure if I mentioned this the last time we spoke, but I'm very careful about what I put into my body. Which means I end up preparing most meals myself." he said before motioning for her to try a bite. Tentatively, she stabbed some of the food on to her fork and slowly moved it up to her mouth. She closed her small mouth around the fork hesitantly, and Tom had to suppress a groan at the sight. He could almost imagine himself sliding between those full pink lips of hers, pushing his cock all the way to the back of her throat and feeling her throat contract around it. Shaking his head free of those thoughts, he looked at her expectantly. Imploring her to tell him what she thought of the food.

As she began to chew her bite of food, she noticed his curious glance and opened her mouth to speak after swallowing, "It's quite delicious Dr. Riddle. Thank you."

"My pleasure." Tom said, while trying to hide the genuine amusement he felt at her comment on their _meal_. "I would also like to apologize for my analytical ambush the other day, but I'm pretty certain that I will soon be apologizing to you again and you'll eventually tire of that, so I think I should probably also consider using these apologies sparingly."

Hermione looked at him for a moment with an unreadable expression before simply saying; "I accept your apology Thomas. Just try and keep it professional from now on. I don't need anyone trying to psychoanalyze me." in a short no nonsense tone.

Tom wasn't thrown in the slightest by her rebuff, in fact he had somewhat expected it of her. But he wasn't going to let her push him away again. "Or," Tom said thoughtfully, "We could try socializing like adults, I mean god forbid we actually become friendly with one another."

"I'm sorry but I don't find you interesting enough to be _friendly_." she said dismissively before shoveling another forkful of food into her mouth.

"You will." he said seriously as he looked at her before changing the subject. "Agent Dumbledore tells me you have a knack for the monsters."

Hermione scoffed before eating another forkful of her food and washing it down with a little coffee, "That's a superstition." she said before taking another sip of coffee. They sat in silence for a moment before Hermione opened her mouth to speak again, "I don't think the Harrier killed Lavender Brown."

_Lavender Brown, _the name bringing to his mind the very first session he had ever had with the girl.

_"— I just feel like he's in love with her, and I don't know what to do. And I know its stupid and insecure of me — I mean they've been friends since they were children for God's sake-" she said with a sad sigh. "But I just can't shake the feeling that there's more to those feelings then that of simple friendship. We've been together for two years and whenever she's around, I just can't help but feel like some kind of interloper or something."_

Finally, something for me to latch on to_._

_"Who is this woman that you're speaking about?" he asked in a tone that he hoped sounded interested._

_"My boyfriend's best friend. Well, she's one of them anyway. He has two, and they all grew up in the same neighborhood as one another."_

_"Is that so? Don't you think that in that case, that they _should _be rather close? Unless there's something about her that makes you think that there is something more to their friendship?"_

_"It's just, every time we have a discussion, it's 'Oh, Hermione said this the other day.' Or 'Hermione did that.' Or my favorite is, 'There was this one time that Hermione did blah, blah, blah..' And I know it's stupid, I really do, especially when you consider the fact that they've known each other for years. But it's just with him constantly bringing her up and constantly talking about the memories he has with her, it starting to make me feel like it's her that he would rather be with."_

_"Hermione," he said slowly, drawing out the syllables of her name, as he tested it with his mouth. What an unusual name, he thought to himself. He wondered idly if she was named after Shakespeare or whether she was named in honor of Greek mythology. "Do you feel that her presence presents a threat to your current position in his life?" he asked her, coming back to the subject at hand._

_"Well, yeah... sometimes..." she admitted in a somewhat shaky voice. "But it's stupid, isn't it?"_

If he had known then, that this was the exquisite creature that his patient had been talking about, he would've surely attempted to make her his long before now.

"The Harrier?" Tom questioned after a pause, remembering what she said, and feeling unfamiliar with the pseudonym.

"Yeah, that's the name that vile Skeeter woman gave the killer." she said with a disgusted roll of her eyes.

"The devil is in the details. Never mind that reporter, what about this murder was different?" he pressed, "What gave it away? What _didn't_ your Copy Cat do to the girl in the field?" Tom asked her with poorly hidden curiosity.

Hermione paused for a moment while she thought, and then answered truthfully. "Everything. Literally none of what I saw in that field yesterday afternoon, is even vaguely reminiscent of the previous crime scenes. It's almost like this Copy Cat _had_ to show me a negative so I could see the positive." she said in obvious frustration, "That crime scene was practically giftwrapped for us." she glowered.

"The mathematics of human behavior and all those ugly variables. There's some bad math with this harrier fellow." Tom said before pausing, thinking of the right words to say to draw her in. "Are you reconstructing his fantasies?" he asked her in curiosity. "What kind of problems does he have?"

"I could easily think of a few." she said sardonically.

"Have you ever had any problems, Hermione?" he asked.

"No." she said mockingly, while she laid a hand over her heart as if he offended her. "Never."

"No." Tom repeated bemusedly before continuing. "Of course you don't. You and I are just alike. Problem free. Nothing about us to feel horrible about." he said with a smile, pausing in his response before continuing on. "You know what, I think Grandfather Dumbledore sees you as little more than a fragile little tea-cup. A tea cup made of the finest china and only to be used for extra special guests. But a tea cup nonetheless."

Hermione laughed airily at his summation of her colleague, before asking, "How do you see me?" as she fixed him with a curious look.

Tom took a moment to think about what to say, before setting her with a serious look, "I see you as the honey badger I want in the brush when the snakes come slithering by." he said with a smile before motioning to her bowl with his fork, "Now finish your breakfast."

Once they were finished eating, Hermione disappeared into her bedroom, leaving Tom to peruse her apartment at his leisure. After five minutes, Tom walked over to her bedroom door and listened to the distant pitter patter of water from her shower, before turning to fully investigate her apartment. He walked around her living room, stopping every now and again to inspect everything he could about her apartment, before remembering her key dish. Tom quickly approached her front door where he had earlier noticed her key dish sitting on the side table, he looked over his shoulder to ensure that he was still alone before pulling out the key mold had hidden in his pocket. Pressing the most worn looking key on the ring into the clay, he closed the mold around it tightly in order to make sure he had the best possible mold for his copy. He opened the key mold and slowly removed the key from the clay before inspecting the impression it made. Satisfied, he placed her keys back in the dish and began to investigate her apartment once more. As he looked around, Tom noticed that she had her mail bin tucked away on the bar that separated her kitchen from the living room, which Tom thought of as something that was quite curious, because normally people kept their mail bins either in their entry hall or in their living room - as a matter of convenience. But with all things considered, he supposed that she might be keeping her mail in this area, so that she could easily catch anyone that decided to look through it. Tom thought for a moment, whether or not he _should_ look through her mail, since she'd obviously gone to such lengths to discourage nosy onlookers before deciding to just go for it - when would he ever get another opportunity to catch her unaware like this. With a shrug, Tom reached forward and began to thumb through the envelopes and quietly noted that the majority of her mail consisted of bills that read "_OVERDUE"_ printed in large letters and written in bright red ink. Tutting quietly to himself at her poor money management skills, he placed the mail back into the bin and began to walk around her apartment once more. He saw that along one of her walls, she had installed a floating shelf, so he walked over to look through its contents. Upon reaching it, he saw that there were a few books adorning the shelf, accompanied by a new picture of her and two boys; one was short with glasses and black hair that was so messy you would think the fool had never seen a comb or brush in his entire life, and the other was a tall ginger. Angrily, he noticed that the red head had his arm thrown over her shoulder with a goofy lopsided grin on his stupid freckled face as he looked down at her.

Slowly, he reached for the photo and removed the frame from the shelf before looking at it's occupants more closely. It was Hermione alright, _but who the hell were the other two_? he thought angrily. _And why in the hell was the red head so fucking close to her_? _Were these the other people that his former patient had told him about? If so, one of them was just a regular friend and the other was the girl's former boyfriend. . . The same boyfriend she had suspected had feelings for Hermione_. This would _never_ do. He wasn't about to fight for her affections with another man. Tom would much rather kill him, and be done with the competition, long before it even got started. And he had no doubt that it would, especially with the boy's new single status now that Tom had done away with his girlfriend. He saw the way that the boy looked at her in the photo, and he knew that his former patient's suspicions were not borne from jealousy, rather than basic observation. Even he could see the red head's obvious interest in the little firecracker in the next room over, and he was only seeing it through a photo. A sudden thought struck him then, _what if the boy already made his move on her, and if he had, was she receptive to it_? Tom felt himself become enraged by the thought. He didn't think he would be able to handle that information if it were true. No. He couldn't let these thoughts get the better of him. Even if she did show interest in the ginger, that still wouldn't be enough to stop him from pursuing her. After all, Tom Riddle _always_ got what he wanted at the end of the day, and she certainly wasn't an exception to that rule.

A soft cough from behind him snapped him out of his thoughts and he turned to see a freshly washed and dressed Hermione. She looked absolutely ravishing in the dress she chose to wear. It was another Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress, that stopped just above her _deliciously_ toned legs. It was cut low enough to offer him a wonderful view of her breasts while not appearing too vulgar or risque. And it also looked to be made entirely of silk just like the previous Furstenberg dress he saw her in, but instead of a woodgrain pattern, this time her dress featured a red and black giraffe spot pattern. He also noted that this dress included a belt to accentuate her tiny little waist, though it did have longer sleeves than her previous dress. She was wearing an alluring pair of black pumps to go with her dress. Her pumps made her legs look endless, and he had a hard time not imagining them being wrapped around his waist as he plowed into her. He slowly drew his eyes from her legs and up the expanse of her body, just imagining what it would be like when he would _finally be _able to peel clothing like this, off of her curvaceous figure. Allowing him the chance to taste and devour _every_ inch of her. Slowly Tom turned back and placed the frame back on the shelf, before facing her once more.

"Why were you looking at that picture?" she asked with a look of annoyance on her face.

"Curiosity, I suppose." he said with a shrug of his shoulders. "Friends of yours?" he inquired hopefully.

"Shall we get going then?" she asked, ignoring his question completely.

"Of course," he said, walking to the front door and opening it up before stepping out into the hall. "Where are we off to?" he asked as she joined him in the hall and closed her door behind herself. After she locked the door, she turned and smiled at him.

"Give me your car keys and you'll find out." she said, with a smile still plastered on her face.

"_My_ car keys?" he asked, lifting his eyebrow in curiosity.

"Yes, now hand them over so I can drive us over to where we need to go!" she said in mock exasperation, as she stuck her hand out towards him.

"Okay, why not," he said with a shrug as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his car keys to hand them over to her.

As soon as the keys hit her hand, she turned on her heel and strutted down the hall to her building's elevator, with him following closely behind her.

* * *

Hermione threw the car into park as they pulled up to the medium sized shop and began to unbuckle her seat belt. Tom smiled at her waning excitement, as she attempted to ready herself to go inside and speak with whomever was there, when she suddenly turned her head and caught him smiling at her.

"And what exactly are you smiling about, Thomas?" she asked, with a wry expression on her face.

"I'm just enjoying the experience of peeking behind the curtain. I've always been curious about how the FBI goes about its business when it _isn't_ kicking in doors." He said jokingly as he released the catch on his seat belt as well.

"We're lucky we're not doing house to house interviews." She said with a laugh before continuing. "We're here because we found a small wooden chip in the clothes Hannah Abbott had on. Our crime scene investigators say that the chip came from a Pond Pine tree, which to my knowledge, only grows in a few places around the state. Though majority of them can be found closer to the coast. And I also think that its a good chance that the chip came from the inside of a wood chipper. Which means, our killer is probably a landscaper that specializes in tree trimming."

"Ahh," Tom said, "So we're here to look for our killer then?" and at the question she nodded in the affirmative.

"I know it's not a lot to go on, but with the type of wood it was, as well as the size of the wooden chip itself, I just _know_ it came from a professional grade wood chipper." she said in the most confident tone he'd heard from her since the first time he met her in Dumbledore's office.

"Albus Dumbledore wants me to make sure you're of sound mind and body... so we can look for wood chippers?" Tom joked and Hermione gave him a slight smile at this before responding.

"Well, that's between you and Albus." Hermione said with a shrug before opening up her car door and closing it behind herself. Once Tom stepped out of the car, he looked at her over the roof of the car.

"Must be hundreds of landscaping shops all over Virginia, what's so special about this place?"

"Certain kind of wood from a certain kind of tree. A tree that only grows in certain areas of the state.. so we're looking at the landscaping shops that are located around the areas where these trees grow." Hermione said as they began to walk to the camper trailer located in the center of the field.

"And what exactly _are_ we looking for?" Tom asked in curiosity.

"At this stage, anything really. But mostly anything peculiar." Hermione said with a shrug as she lifted her hand and knocked on the door.

A moment later the door opened to reveal a flustered looking secretary. After a few minutes of Tom laying down his signature Riddle charm. With a few flattering comments and a couple of glares from his little beauty, the secretary Harper was more than happy to grant them access to their files and paperwork. Just as Harper came over to try and ingratiate herself to him, Hermione whipped out a resignation letter from one of the drawers and held it up to her. Stopping the simpering little girl dead in her tracks.

"Xenophilus Lovegood." she said, looking at the secretary with a silent question in her eyes.

"Oh, he's one of our company's tree trimmers. He resigned Wednesday of last week. That drawer is where we keep all of our resignation letters." she said distractedly, keeping her eyes on him the entire time, while she simultaneously coiled a strand of her dull hair around her finger.

"Did Mr. Lovegood have a daughter?" Hermione asked, drawing the secretary's attention back to herself.

"Might have." she said with a shrug, before turning her eyes back to Tom.

Her obvious dismissal did nothing to deter his little beauty, and she continued to ask the stupid bint questions. "She would be somewhere around eighteen or nineteen years old," Hermione said, "Somewhat windchaffed? She would've appeared to be plain but still pretty? She would have dirty blonde hair. And about this tall." she continued, indicating with her hand, how tall she believed the girl to be.

_Harper_, slit her eyes at Hermione for a moment before speaking in a sharp, annoyed tone. "Maybe. I don't know. I don't keep company with these people."

Tom turned to Hermione before asking, "What is it about this _Xenophilus Lovegood _character, that you find so peculiar?

"I just thought it was curious that in his resignation letter, he left his phone number. But didn't leave an address." she said with a shrug.

"Ahh, I see." Tom said thoughtfully before continuing, "So because he didn't leave his address, you believe he has something to hide?" Hermione shrugged in response and Tom knew it was because she did'nt want to put too much weight on the matter.

"After spending the past few minutes going through all of these files, one thing was made glaringly clear, _everyone_ _else_ that recently resigned, left an address to reach them at." Hermione said to him before turning back to the secretary. "Would you happen to have an address for Mr. Lovegood?"

The woman nodded in response and stepped around the both of them, purposefully rubbing herself against Tom's front as she did so. This was the final strike for Tom personally. He couldn't believe that she would even deign herself worthy of his affections, let alone be forward enough to actually invade his personal space in this manner. But the rage that shot across Hermione's face at her actions, made a pleased smirk cross Tom's face. _So she was jealous... Now _this_ was interesting. _He let the annoying little bint fish around in the drawer before him, until she finally pulled out Mr. Lovegood's employee file and handed it over to Hermione.

"Can I have the rest of his employee information as well as the employee info of all the other tree trimmers, both currently employed by this company and those that have recently resigned as well." she said through gritted teeth.

After some shuffling around on the secretary's behalf, Hermione, Tom, and Harper began to haul file boxes from the makeshift office building and to the trunk of Tom's car. On impulse, Tom accidentally knocked over a file box from the trunk, scattering papers.

"Oh damn it," Tom exclaimed, shocking the two women with his language as he bent to go retrieve the papers. Harper instantly dropped down to help him as he expected, and with a roll of her eyes, Hermione bent to help him as well.

"I got it." Hermione said dismissively as she motioned for him to get up, "Just go get the last box of files, and I'll get this up." she said before leaning over to whisper, "If you stay out here doing this, then this idiot will never let us be, just go get the box so we can go see the Lovegood man and see if he's a suspect." With a nod, Tom stood and went back into the office as Hermione and Harper picked up the pages.

After Tom entered the office, he stopped to listen to the creaking of the door hinges as it swung and latched closed with a resounding _CLICK_. He peeked out the window and saw Hermione and the secretary still cleaning up the mess that he made outside. Satisfied, Tom walked over to the abandoned secretary desk and picked up the phone with his sleeve. He pulled a pen from her writing supply cup, and typed in the number he saw on the resignation letter he saw earlier. He waited patiently for someone to answer the ringing telephone.

"Hello?" he heard a girlish voice say, once the phone had been answered. She sounded dreamy, almost like she was floating in a constant state of somnolence.

"Hello, is your father home?" Tom asked, not wasting any time.

"Yeah," the voice said before continuing. "Just hold on a second and I'll get him." and then Tom could hear her calling out to her father, "Dad!" she exclaimed, voice sounding like an elevated form of a whisper. "Phone for you!" she sing songed at the end. After a small rustling sound a much harder tone met him on the other line of the phone.

"Hello?" the man said.

"Is this a Mister Xenophilus Lovegood?" Tom asked, making sure he had the right man on the phone.

"Yes." The man said, confirming his identity to Tom.

"Good," Tom said, with a smile on his face, "Mister Lovegood, you don't know me and unfortunately I suspect that we'll never properly meet. But regardless of this, I decided to give you this is a courtesy call. Now I need you to listen to me very carefully." Tom said before pausing to let his words settle in before making sure the man heard him. "I hope I have your attention Mr. Lovegood, are you listening?

"Yes..." the man said hesitantly.

"Good." Tom said, before pausing for dramatic effect. "They know." he finished and then hung up before the man could respond.

Tom turned and grabbed the last box of files and happily strolled out of the door and to the car where Hermione was putting the last few papers back into their file box. She popped the lid onto the top of the box, and stood up and met Tom's eyes.

Tom looked at her with a smile on his face before switching the box over to one hand and reaching into his pocket to remove his car keys to pass them back over to her.

"Get in and start it up, I'll put the rest of this in the trunk," He said, gesturing to the box in his arm and the box on the ground that she just sealed. Hermione took his car keys and turned to get in the car. He popped the two boxes into the trunk and closed it with a dull thud. Tom could barely hide his smirk as he walked around to the other side of the car, and climbed into the passenger side. Eager to see what his phone call had wrought. Hermione looked at him once, sharing a cautious smile with him, as she put the car in drive and pulled off.

They arrived at Xenophilus Lovegood's house after a silent thirty minute drive. After putting the car in park, she dug into her purse and pulled out a small bottle of aspirin. She dumped a few out and popped them into her mouth, as she silently sat behind the wheel of the car. Tom unbuckled his seatbelt on the passenger side with a hint of excitement and a smile on his face. Deciding to lag behind, Tom watched Hermione get out and begin making her way over to the house, before turning to slowly exit the car himself.

Tom watched in gleeful amusement when halfway to the front door, it burst open to reveal a bloodied blonde haired woman. Hermione ran to the bleeding, wheezing woman. The woman fell down the porch steps in a heap, the door slamming shut behind her as she fell. Tom thought for a moment that her alabaster skin was in sharp contrast to the crimson liquid pouring out of it. Even from where he stood, he could see multiple puncture wounds across her torso and arms. He watched as the woman tried to grasp the front of Hermione's dress, streaking and staining the silken material with her blood.

"TOM!" he heard Hermione scream from across the yard and hurried across the grass to kneel next to Hermione over the woman. He reached out and grabbed a hold of her hand as well as the disgustingly cold hand of the woman lying at the bottom of the stairs. He looked at her and hoped he sounded as distressed as he needed to as he frantically told her that he would handle this and to go inside and check for the suspect.

The moment he locked eyes with her he saw how frantic she was as she fearfully squeezed his wrist in her free hand, and he knew right then and there that this would be a make or break moment for her. He watched as her hand tentatively reached beneath her dress and pulled her gun from the lace thigh holster she had hidden there. He was surprised by this, he already knew from what Dumbledore had told him, that she had never used her gun before. So he watched in mild astonishment as she stood and shot out the lock of the door knob before pushing the door open and walking inside. The moment Tom lost sight of Hermione, he looked down into the eyes of the woman beneath him as he pried her slick, red fingers from his wrist; relishing the look of hurt he saw in her eyes and savoring her last few flickers of pain and fear as they flitted across her face. He watched with a smile as her last breath finally left her mouth, and her unseeing eyes stayed trained on him.

Once he was certain that she had died, Tom stood and dusted his clothing off before strolling casually into the house, barely sparing a second glance at the lifeless body of the woman lying on the ground. He deliberately stepped over her, only coming to a halt once he got into the front hall, and began listening closely.

"THIS IS THE LAST TIME THAT I'M GOING TO SAY THIS! DROP. THE. WEAPONS!" he heard her scream, before the sound of gunshots rang out. BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

At this sound Tom became worried. _Did that Lovegood idiot have a gun_? _Was he trying to shoot his woman?_

Tom ran into the kitchen and was shocked by the sight laid before him; lying on the floor in a pool of blood were father and daughter- both suffering from multiple gun shot wounds and holding.. _were those knives_? Tom wondered as he noticed the light catching the objects that were gripped in their dying hands. He looked at Hermione and saw just how shaken she was and Tom knew that this was the moment that he had been waiting for, _this_ was the make or break moment. He could let her allow this moment to ruin her, or he could use it to propel her deeper into his own dark life.

"Hermione, come here." he said, motioning for her to cross the room over to where he stood. "You're okay." Tom assured her as he pulled her trembling form into his waiting arms, "Everything is going to be okay." he said, hiding his smirking face in her curls as he spoke, and relishing in the feel of her closeness as she clutched on to the fine material of his personally tailored suit.

* * *

**AN: Sooooo. Is this story interesting enough for you guys to want me to continue it? Let me know with a comment.**


End file.
